


warm blood

by hingabee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, F/F, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, everything is vague, graphic descriptions of said animal death, vague approach on military conflicts, weird parasite bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hingabee/pseuds/hingabee
Summary: She smiles to herself at the thought of that silly, juvenile infatuation – the child from back then had not appreciated the true beauty of the angel named Quiet, her name being only a whisper or held back breath for most people – because now Wolf has the privilege of saying, shouting, sighing that name and it is light on her lips and drops like honey from her throat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is for rarepair week prompt 4 guns are a girls best friend and i thought lets hit it up with some weird ass lesbianism.  
> title is by carly rae queen of giving me fic titles

The warm days are good, they say, because the tents do not flood and the wet air does not stick to the skin – but today it is so hot that the little waves dancing above the sand and dirt to her feet make her nauseous enough to not move at all.  
  
Instead she leans against the huge Kangal next to her and threads her fingers through his short fur carefully to comb out clumps of dried up mud and grass.  
  
“Şerwan, be good.”  
  
The dog lets out a low but friendly growl and licks her bare ankle as she pushes up the fur at his neck a little to scratch him properly.  
  
Almost everyone – of those who are still left – is asleep or simply resting at this hour of the day and she cherishes the silence that wraps around the camp in its almost threatening manner, but it really is not easy to let go of the knife clutched in her other hand because these bad things happen, as they say, and she will have to defend these people that are hers but also are _not_.  
  
Then Şerwan raises his head with twitching ears and makes a dangerous noise, she slides down into the dog’s dug up pit in the ground – hidden by the shadows of the tent – and scans the surrounding dirt hills for signs of of soldiers or more of these Islamist pigs that have been attacking the camp recently.  
  
It takes her a while, but her eyes a sharp, and she spots the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man slowly approaching the camp – he does not look like one of the pigs, more like a westerner – though he is not wearing the uniform of the Americans either.  
  
The soldiers are nice, they told her, but by now she knows that there  _are_ no nice soldiers.  
  
When the man does not spot her and moves out of her field of view she crawls along the backside of the tent to watch him take up position behind one of the already empty supply crates – the Americans might pretend they want to help, but there never is enough food or water for everyone, even though they say that America is rich and paved with gold.  
  
But before she can get a better look at the man, gunshots and explosions start ringing in her ears and she watches in horror as Şerwan runs past her in the direction of the noise and disappears between the tents.  
  
She follows, knife drawn, without a second thought.  
  
  
  
  
Şerwan is not there any more when she wakes up.  
  
Her first instinct is too reach for her knife and stab the man leaning above her but even that has been taken away from her and she screams at him, scratches at his face but he is too quick and grabs her wrists.  
  
He says something to her but she does not understand and keeps struggling against his grip  
  
“Let go off me, demon!” She yells in Kurmanji and it is true; he is a demon with that black horn growing from his forehead and his mess of a face. Still behind those brutal features there is an underlying note of… _calm_ and she cries and tries to get away from this strange man who seems so unfazed by her loss.  
  
Suddenly an angel appears beside the demon, raising its hand and he just nods in response. The angel glows in a strange light, but it is so beautiful that she is unable to take her eyes off it, and it smiles kindly before sitting down next to her.  
  
It is alright, someone she can not see tells her in Arabic, she has to rest, because they will take her to heaven now.  
  
  
  
  
She rarely eats or sleeps these days, her hands always covered with gun powder and dog hair as she cleans rifles until her knuckles are red and sore. But it feels like this is what she was always supposed to be doing and she eagerly learns to recognise every little difference between the different models; how the shape of them feels against her shoulder, how different their silent sounds are.  
  
Here in heaven, everyone takes a new name – leaves their old life behind – and so they call her ‘Wolf’ and she likes it, the fond and fading memory of Şerwan the only connection to what once was – that and the pain she carries so perfectly concealed.  
  
Wolf has learned to love that demon that saved her all those years ago, his gentle face still seems terrifying at times, though he reminds her of of the generous sultan Saladin whose name had been disgraced by the nationalist pigs that had taken everything from her. She knows that this Saladin –  _her_ Saladin – is the real one, because he strives for the peace of war and unity under no false flag but his very own.  
  
Also Wolf has watched the way he treats his soldiers, his enemies and civilians all with the same respect and dignity that she just can not bring herself to carry on when she faces even just the idea of what has been taken from her.  
  
But then, always there at Saladin’s side is her angel, dark eyes watching over him from the shadows. In the beginning Wolf had been in awe over her milky skin – that somehow just never got stained red by the sun – almost melting into her background flawlessly, making the angel almost too difficult t spot. But of course Wolf, mindful of her duties, still managed to catch glimpses of her every now and then.  
  
She smiles to herself at the thought of that silly, juvenile infatuation – the child from back then had not appreciated the true beauty of the angel named Quiet, her name being only a whisper or held back breath for most people – because now Wolf has the privilege of saying, shouting, sighing that name and it is light on her lips and drops like honey from her throat.  
  
But most of the time they do not speak at all, because why should they?   
  
  
  
  
Wolf sits back on her heels and pulls her scarf a bit further into her face to shield it from the ruthless heat and light, then turns her head towards Quiet who is sprawled out next to her between the sand and shrubs, basking in the sun. Wolf watches her kick up her legs and slip out of her tights and quickly averts her eyes when she notices Quiet smirking at her.  
  
Somewhere in the barren field behind them DD is hunting for mice, he reminds Wolf of Şerwan a lot and she more than often catches herself with that name on her tongue when calling for him.  
  
They have been camping out here for almost a week now, though Wolf is thankful because she always has enjoyed these little training exercises – one day some distraught soldier had just showed up at her unit’s barracks and nervously announced that the CO herself had had asked for Wolf’s support on her next solo mission. At that point Wolf had barely any actual combat experience outside of pretty calm little escorts and Saladin had made it clear that he did not want her in any extreme situations because of her young age – which she had grudgingly accepted.  
  
When Wolf had stepped into Quiet’s “office” for the first time that day, she had been a bit overwhelmed b the sticky feeling of the humid and moist air on her skin; countless of potted plants – most of them carnivorous – had been spread all over the shelves, the desk and even the floor.  
In the midst of it all sat the angel herself underneath a flickering grow light, dark spots growing over her body in some kind of bizarre inky pattern making her buzzing presence seem even more etheral than what Wolf was used to.  
  
Quiet had been observing her from those muddy shadows ever since that ragged, little girl had arrived in heaven with war behind her eyes and a demon’s blood underneath her nails, and she apparently had been very pleased with what she had seen because soon Wolf had found an angel watching over her every step.  
  
Now, awkwardly sitting in the hot sand, Wolf licks her lips and politely looks right past Quiet as she stretches in the sun with an almost obscene beauty that is so foreign and yet so eerily familiar that Wolf quickly turns back to her rifle to clean invisible dust off the scope.  
  
Quiet’s soundless laughter – rasping little inhales vibrating at the back of Wolf’s neck as her angel leans against her shoulders – make her snarl back in frustration but Quiet keeps on mocking her and almost pushes them down the gentle slope of the hill. It is way too warm to be playing around like this and Wolf actually wants to improve her shooting this but Quiet does not seem to care about any of the set up targets and starts tugging at Wolf’s scarf almost insistently to get her attention.  
  
Before Wolf can remind her of their objective, however, DD approaches and gently places a dead mouse in the dirt before them.  
  
Of course they thank him – Wolf even kisses his blood-smeared muzzle – and then watch him run off into the field again, sunset hanging dangerously low above his wagging tail.  
  
It is a good thing that Saladin is not present himself because Quiet gently takes the dead animal into her hands, studying it for a moment, before sinking her teeth around its neck and ripping its head off. Then she hands it to Wolf who hesitates for a moment before taking a bite herself – she has eaten worse after all – though she spits out the fur and bone with a grimace and hides her smiling face in embarrassment when Quiet laughs again.  
  
It is only out here – under the faded stars and with dirt and sweat stuck to her hands – that Wolf can truly be the animal she was born as and she relishes that, licks the blood of her lips and lets an angel guide her into a realm of existence she has never dared to pretend to even understand because now there is ink flowing in her veins and Quiet’s mouth on hers and for one damn moment in her war-ridden life she feels at peace.  
  
Claws dig into her uniform and it feels like water running down her chest as they fluidly undo the buttons of her jacket and slip beneath to eagerly taste her skin. She gasps – once, twice – an inexperienced anxiety flaring up, but it is quickly stifled by Quiet reassuringly holding her right hand, palm-flat, in front of her face and then pulling it forwards with the tips of her fingers meeting in a pointed fist. That gesture itself merely signs a word, but Quiet’s left hand is placed above her heart and with that she finishes her sign as Wolf’s name, something that is so delicately personal and affectionate that it is only shared between the two of them.  
  
Wolf manages to tangle her own fingers in Quiet’s, hair though it the fading light it almost seems to be evaporating and she does not mind when thick black drops run down her arms and fall onto her face only to be lapped up again by the angel above her.  
  
She shivers slightly when Quiet sits up in her lap and undoes her top without any words – when Wolf was just a clueless girl she had thought Quiet’s choices of clothing to be rather immodest, even though now she wishes to be as confident as the angel and only cover herself with whatever she pleases. The fabric melts right off her and Wolf whole body twitches slightly when Quiet presses her breasts against her own naked chest; somehow they fit right together, bodily shapes and lines flowing into each other to form something greater and more significant.  
  
Of course she does not speak, but there _are_ noises spilling from her mouth and tears from her eyes when Quiet moves down further her, licking her way along Wolf’s torso spreading red and black mixed with saliva all over her before undoing her pants and pulling them down to her ankles.  
  
Now that the sun is almost completely hidden behind the hills in the distance, Wolf looks up to see her angel smile down at her and the sight is almost too much to bear; covered in blood and dirt that naked body seems only more animalistic and wild and free.  
Quiet delves between her legs, gently parting her thighs and humming against her pubic bone – Wolf bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling as Quiet playfully nudges her clitoris with her nose – before sloppily licking at her. It almost burns and Wolf wants to move her hips simultaneously away and  _into_ the touch, but the dark claws grab at her and hold her still as Quiet caresses her with seeming nonchalance, but hidden behind that is the methodical goal of taking Wolf apart piece by piece to consume her completely and make her disappear in the oily abyss of that alien body.  
  
It is impossible for Wolf to not lose herself in a steady stream of curses and moans as Quiet works her fingers quickly and sucks softly at Wolf’s clitoris before grazing her teeth over it teasingly.  
  
This sickly-sweet pleasure is similar to what Wolf has managed to coax from herself with her own hand before, but unlike now there had only been Quiet’s face on her  _mind_ and not between her legs and that syrupy thick smell enveloping her in comfort and safety.  
  
Then her angel is looming above her again; hair messy and skin spotted with that black, spilled ink all over her body that just collapses in itself to cascade over Wolf and carry them both away in its current.  
  
Wolf is at home.  
  
  
  
  
Back home at base Wolf falls into her old routine – she takes care of the dogs, DD always by her side, no matter where she goes; of her guns; of her unit – and even though nothing has changed at all she knows her senses and mind are sharpened and more focused.  
  
Where before there was only one shadow, she now spots multiple ones; every movement and flicker of light is more vibrant and real, and as she watches the angel Quiet walk alongside Saladin to protect their heaven she realises what drowning in those dark waters truly meant for her fate.  
  
This demon now has _two_ angels to protect him.  
  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little doodle i did for this fic !


End file.
